Leaning into the Season

It's Friday evening, just a touch of soft blue left in the sky, a light coating of snow on the ground. I'm prioritizing cozy, wearing the same men's wool cardigan that I've worn practically all month, and leaving the house as little as possible. After feeling overwhelmed in the beginning of December about everything I should be doing, I decided to end the year gently. I've been spending many evenings after dinner with my feet up, wearing cozy Christmas socks, knitting, watching Christmas movies, and drinking warm apple cider (with just a dribble of apple pie moonshine). I decided not to blog, or put pressure on myself to paint, or market anything I've already painted. Oddly, in embracing rest, I found myself pretty productive artistically. In the past couple of weeks I've painted two commissions, sold three paintings, delivered three others, and the other day I was offered opportunities to display at both a home design shop and a local bistro. And here I am, blogging. I also knitted a whole hat! It's pretty interesting what can happen when you remove pressure from the equation. My mental friction decreased, and it took much less effort to accomplish the things that I usually have to push myself to do.

One commission was just completed last night. Is it still a commission if you refuse to take any money for it? It was a painting requested by Al, about whom you can read here. Making something for him is an honor, and a small way to thank him for all that he's given me. I wrote about the symbolism and significance of this painting when I posted about it on Instagram. This piece was a joy from the start. The only thing he asked was that it have lotuses and a dragonfly, so I was able to mostly just play. At each step, I followed my sense of intuition as to where to go next, and I think it served me well.

"You Can't Think, You Gotta Know"

Besides the pleasure I took in the process, I felt the additional joy that can only be found by painting something meaningful. I had it while working on "Resilience," as well as while painting "Bend Towards the Light" - sunflowers, which always make me think of my beautiful sister. She will get her own blog post some day, I'm sure. If love is energy, and energy is transmitted through our brushstrokes, then these paintings have literally been made with love. I would like to figure out how to make every single painting with that energy.

A good friend of mine told me that every time she draws a portrait of someone, she falls in love with them a little bit. I knew exactly what she meant. At least for me, when I'm looking at someone that intently, I begin to see their humanity and the sacredness found just in the fact that they're alive. It's the idea of painting to see, rather than to be seen. When you're painting from a place of ego, you might be painting to be seen, urgently trying to set yourself apart, to stand out. I think every artist wants that. But when you make decisions from that place, you're not making them from a place of authenticity. It's so much better to paint in order to see. Paint your fascination. Paint your curiosity. Paint your love.

I once asked people on Instagram what they preferred as paintings - landscapes, portraits, etc. Another artist wisely responded that he prefers to see a painting that an artist really wanted to paint. Such a simple, grounding statement. I'm grateful for it as a reminder. Of course people would be more drawn to art that comes from within its creator than art that is only created as a commodity. I have thoughts on how I can create authentically in regards to commissions too, but that's for another post.

I am still committed to ending this year gently. Very smart people are setting their goals for 2025 and I'm sure they are going to work hard to accomplish much. I typically have that mindset too. But right now I'm toying with the idea of walking into the new year with a mind that is open to receive things as they come. I want to follow my fascination, my curiosity, and my love. Over time, my truth will present itself in my paintings not by force, but by presence and trust. Rather than making hard and fast decisions about the body of work that I'm going to create, how much I'm going to make, and how I'm going to market it, I'm instead planning to work diligently on playfully exploring, while listening for the sweet voice of the inner Spirit.

How do you typically go into a new year? Does it make you contemplative? Do you have any big personal goals for 2025?